


Eames, Magical Fairy Extraordinaire

by ropememory



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: inception_kink, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:24:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ropememory/pseuds/ropememory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/11941.html?thread=25707685">this prompt</a> on inception_kink</p>
    </blockquote>





	Eames, Magical Fairy Extraordinaire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/11941.html?thread=25707685) on inception_kink

Arthur was ten the first time he met Eames. He had bit down on his bottom lip to stop a scream and ducked under the covers to hide from the four inch tall man with wings that _glowed_ brighter than the nightlight he still hadn’t managed to not need.

“Look,” Eames said, floating above Arthur’s head that had peeked out from underneath the covers once Eames started talking. “I’m not going to... curse you or anything. And you’re not going crazy. I’m your... it’s...” Eames sighed. “I’ll be here if you need me, yeah? I’d give you a card, but you’re ten, so you’ll probably lose it.”

“I wouldn’t,” Arthur pouted, because he was a very responsible ten year old and therefore could _definitely_ be trusted to keep a card from a magically lit-up mini-person.

Eames just shook his head. “When you start carrying around a wallet, I’ll give you a card, alright? Until then, just... call.”

“I don’t have a phone,” Arthur said.

“Right, well... whistle then,” Eames said, floating up to ceiling where Arthur’s glow-in-the-dark constellations were.

“I can’t whistle,” Arthur replied, the covers falling down as he sat up to watch Eames.

“What can you do?” Eames asked, prying off one of the stars from the Big Dipper.

“Uhm...” Arthur thought about it for a bit, and in that time Eames had stuck the star onto his feet and moved back down to Arthur’s head. “I can snap.”

Eames nodded, arms crossed over his chest, standing on the star he had stolen. “Then snap _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_ and I’ll show up.”

Arthur poked at the star on Eames’ feet, causing Eames’ legs to go backwards while the rest of him fell forward to compensate.

“Hey!” Eames exclaimed, floundering his arms around as he tried to right himself again.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked.

“I’m Kirby,” Eames replied, crouching down on the star before flying around the room. “See?”

Arthur really didn’t, but he nodded anyway, smiling a little, because his was ten and the mini-man was silly.

\--

The next time Arthur saw Eames, he was thirteen and almost squashed Eames with his English textbook, because he thought Eames might have been some large bug.

“Oi! Watch where you’re swinging that thing! You could hurt someone,” Eames said, after he had retreated to Arthur’s bookshelf, out of squashing range.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked, because he wasn’t going to apologize when the whole thing was Eames’ fault.

“I missed you terribly,” Eames replied.

Arthur rolled his eyes, because if Eames _had_ missed him terribly, then why did he bother waiting three years to show back up? “No, really. Why are you here?”

Eames sighed. “I haven’t heard from you. It’s in the manual that I have to pop by every once and awhile to make sure you’re not dead. Which, thanks to you, _I_ almost was.”

Arthur threw an eraser at him. “You’re fine. I’m fine. Now leave.”

Eames dodged the eraser. “Do you have a wallet yet?” He asked, instead of leaving.

This time, Arthur threw a paperclip. “No. Now leave. You’re creeping me out.”

Eames caught the paperclip and started bending it into a line. Arthur decided to ignore Eames and do his homework, since it _was_ due tomorrow. Once Eames was satisfied with the paperclip, he moved back down to Arthur’s desk.

“Do you remember how to get ahold of me?” Eames asked. Arthur went to flick him off the desk, but pulled his hand back when Eames jabbed him with the paperclip.

“Ow! You’re such a jerk,” Arthur said, rubbing at the spot on his hand.

“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.” Eames shook his head. “I can’t leave until you answer the question.”

“Jan, Jan, Jan, yes, I do,” Arthur said.

“My name’s not Jan,” Eames said. “I don’t have a younger sister named Cindy, either.”

Arthur glared at him. “I thought you were leaving once I answered.” And then, “I think your name’s Kirby.”

Eames raised an eyebrow at Arthur. “It’s not that either. But, you’re right, I should be going.”

And then Eames disappeared from Arthur’s desk, leaving the mutilated paperclip behind. Arthur waved a hand over the spot Eames had been in, but didn’t feel anything other than air.

\--

It took Arthur two weeks before he tried summoning Eames. He had gotten to “up above the world so high” when Eames finally showed up.

“And how may I help you on this fine evening?” Eames asked, hovering in mid-air with his legs crossed Indian-style in front of Arthur, who was sitting at his desk again.

“What’s your name?” Arthur questioned.

“Can’t tell you,” Eames replied.

Arthur sighed. “Because then you’d have to kill me?”

“Well, no,” Eames said. “But it’s on my card. So, normally, I hand over the card, and people know my name, and I never have to tell them.”

“Then give me your card,” Arthur replied.

Eames eyed him suspiciously. “Are you going to lose it?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Okay, then.” Eames pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket. “Now, if you lose this, then you can’t get another one. That’s against the rules. And I’ll know, if it’s lost.”

Arthur held out a hand to take the card from Eames. “I won’t lose it.”

Eames fluttered down to stand on Arthur’s outstretched hand. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Arthur said, and then Eames placed the card on Arthur’s palm and it grew to the size of a normal business card. Using his other hand, since Eames was still standing on the first one, Arthur picked up the card to read it. “Eames, Magical Fairy Extraordinaire.” He flipped the card over, and on the back was a black dot next to the words “Put finger here to summon.”

Eames nodded. “Now you know. Anything else? You caught me in the middle of making dinner, and I’d like to get back before it burns the house down.”

Arthur stared at him. “You have a house?”

“Of course I have a house, darling. Where else would I live?” Eames rolled his eyes, and disappeared before Arthur could answer.

A bit disappointed Eames had left so quickly this time, Arthur debated about throwing the card away before sticking it in his sock drawer.

\--

Arthur was fifteen with a broken heart when he summoned Eames with the card for the first time. He was laying down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, where the stars have long since been removed, when Eames showed up. He stood on Arthur’s nose, and Arthur had to go cross-eyed to look at him.

“People suck,” Arthur said.

Eames hmm’d in agreement.

“Like, really suck,” Arthur continued, and closed his eyes because looking at Eames was giving him a headache.

“And why do people really suck?” Eames asked, walking down Arthur’s nose to the middle of his forehead before sitting.

Arthur opened his eyes again. “They just do.”

Eames snorted. “Eloquent.”

“Oh, what do you know, anyway.” Arthur scowled. “You’re just a... just a _fairy._ ”

Eames hmm’d again.

They were both quiet for a bit, until Eames asked, “So what _particular_ person has made all people suck?”

“This guy,” Arthur said, picking at the hem of his shirt.

“Does this guy have a name?” Eames asked.

“Who are you, my mother?” Arthur snapped.

Eames stood up again before flying over to sit on Arthur’s stomach. “Okay. So, why does this guy suck?”

Arthur propped himself up on his elbows to look at Eames, who almost fell over due to the jostling. “Do fairies date?” Arthur asked instead of answering the question, once Eames had re-situated himself.

“Sort of,” Eames replied. “Mostly just long enough to find a suitable enough mate.”

“Oh,” Arthur said. “So, you don’t, like, love each other?”

Eames smiled at that, but it looked a little sad. “It’s not that we don’t _love._ ”

Arthur flopped back down on the bed. “Have you found a mate?”

Eames laughed at that. “Can’t say I have. Been a bit preoccupied with work.”

It was Arthur’s turn to hmm, then.

They were quiet again, but eventually Arthur asked, softly, “Will you stay?”

“Just till you fall asleep.” Eames replied just when Arthur thought maybe he hadn’t heard, “Wouldn’t want you to crush me.” Eames moved up to the pillow beside Arthur’s head.

“That was once,” Arthur said, turning on his side to face Eames before closing his eyes. “And I didn’t actually crush you.”

“I suppose you didn’t,” Eames replied.

Eames waited until Arthur’s breathing evened out, before kissing him on the forehead and disappearing.

\--

Eames showed up the next night, when Arthur was just getting into bed.

“Why hello there,” Eames said. “Long time no see.”

Arthur was sitting up and watching Eames float around the room, surveying. When Eames finally turned around to look at him, Arthur held out a hand, which Eames fluttered over to stand on.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked with a small smile.

“I was in the neighborhood,” Eames replied. “Thought I’d stop by.”

“I see,” Arthur said, as Eames moved down to his leg. Arthur put his hand back on the bed to help prop himself up.

“Have you got that wallet yet?” Eames asked, sitting down. Arthur shook his head, and Eames tsk’d. “What about a phone?”

Arthur nodded that time, grinning. “You wanna see?”

“I do,” Eames replied, before floating up enough to not be jostled when Arthur leaned over to search his backpack for the phone.

A few minutes later, he emerged triumphant, and set the phone on the bed next to Eames.

“Now,” Eames said, jumping on the buttons to get to the address book. “I’m going to put my number in here, and you text me if you need something, alright? Or if you’re bored.”

“You have a phone?” Arthur asked, surprised.

Eames finished inputting his number into Arthur’s phone, before calling himself so he’d have Arthur’s number, too. “Indeed.”

Arthur stared at him. “How does that even work.”

“Magic,” Eames said, grinning. “Now, go to bed. It’s a school night.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but put the phone back and laid down.

“I’ll stay here till you’re asleep,” Eames said, moving so he could lay down on the pillow where he had been the night before.

“Night,” Arthur said, yawning, before wiggling around a bit to get comfortable.

“Night,” Eames echoed. And, again, he waited until Arthur’s breathing evened out, before kissing him on the forehead and disappearing.

\--

It took a week before Eames showed up again.

“So,” he started, sitting down on top of Arthur’s head. “I was talking to this friend of mine.”

“You have friends?” Arthur asked, closing his notebook because he probably wasn’t going to get any more work done while Eames was around.

“I do,” Eames replied. “Don’t you have friends?”

Arthur shrugged. “I guess.”

Eames sighed, and stood up to start pacing on Arthur’s head. “Anyway. I was talking to my friend, and he was saying that one of his people texts him _all the time_ to say hello or chat about her day, or anything, really. So it got me thinking... why don’t _you_ do that?” He stopped pacing and knelt on Arthur’s head so he could look at him upside-down.

“You could text me, you know,” Arthur replied.

Eames hmm’d. A few seconds later, Arthur’s phone buzzed.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur picked up the phone to look at the message.

 **From: Eames**   
_Hi! Your hair is very soft :P_

“Must be the conditioner,” Arthur said.

The phone buzzed again.

 **From: Eames**   
_Good to know. But you’re supposed to be texting, not talking :P_

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, but texted back: _Happy?_

 **From: Eames**   
_You have no idea. Now, do your homework. I need to go make dinner. Bye!_

And then Eames disappeared from Arthur’s head. Frowning a little, Arthur responded: _Enjoy dinner._

He did open back up his notebook, though, even if he didn’t get very much done.

\--

For a few months, the only real communication they had was the occasional text. And even then, those mostly consisted of Eames sending random emoticons and “have a good day” or “good night,” nothing substantial. So, Arthur was a little surprised when Eames randomly showed up one Saturday morning before he had managed to get out of bed.

“Your birthday is coming up,” Eames said, standing on Arthur’s nose.

Arthur would have nodded, except then Eames would have been thrown off. “Yeah.”

“Exciting,” Eames said. And then he was gone again.

Arthur wasn’t sure he liked the Eames that disappeared so quickly.

\--

On the day Arthur turned sixteen, there was a cupcake sitting on his desk and a text from Eames that said _Enjoy the cupcake. Don’t rot your teeth :o_

Arthur rolled his eyes, and almost just said thanks, but as he looked at the cupcake, the cupcake without its maker, he just felt _sad._

He sent back _Thanks. Wish you had been here with it. :/_ before getting up to shower.

\--

Eames showed up the next night, and Arthur glared at him as he walked up and down one of Arthur’s legs.

“I’m not really a morning person,” Eames explained. “So I figured I’d put it there during the night, so it’d be there when you woke up.”

Arthur continued to glare.

“I’m sorry! Next time, I’ll hang around, yeah? Use the eraser as a pillow and a piece of paper for a blanket,” Eames said.

Arthur blinked at him, then. “Well, you could just sleep on the pillow.”

Eames stopped pacing and looked up at Arthur. “You will squish me.”

“I won’t!” Arthur protested. “Come on. Just. Try? Tonight? And if I squish you then I’ll never ask again.”

Eames sighed. “You won’t be able to ask again, because I’ll be _squished._ ”

Arthur scooted as close to the wall as possible and patted the pillow. “Trust me.”

Eames flew over to the side of the pillow far away from Arthur. “If I’m squished, it will literally be on your head.”

Arthur nodded, and then laid down. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Eames said, turning around in circles before finally getting comfortable.

When Arthur didn’t squish Eames in his sleep, Eames started to spend more nights than not curled up on Arthur’s pillow.

\--

Arthur was twenty by the time he found out why Eames had come to him a decade earlier.

“I had a meeting with my boss yesterday,” Eames said, appearing from nowhere to stand on Arthur’s desk.

“You have a boss?” Arthur asked, eyebrow quirked.

Eames sighed. “Why do you ask such silly questions all the time, Arthur?”

Arthur glared at him, but it wasn’t very effective, since Eames never seemed to care that Arthur was annoyed with him. “Probably because you never tell me anything.”

“Ah,” Eames said.

When Eames didn’t say anything else, Arthur waited, counted to ten, then twenty five, before finally caving in and asking “What was the meeting about?”

Eames didn’t answer, and Arthur almost picked him up to _make_ him answer, but then Eames was sitting down on the edge, feet swaying back and forth, looking _dejected,_ and Arthur was annoyed, yes, but he wasn’t _cruel_.

“Do you remember asking me if fairies dated?” Eames asked, and he sounded very far away.

Arthur nodded.

“Right. And do you remember what I said when you asked if we loved each other?”

Arthur nodded again.

“Well, I’m not preoccupied with work. I don’t...” Eames waved a hand around in the air. “You’re my only work, per se.”

“Does that make you Tinker Bell to my Peter Pan?” Arthur asked.

Eames laughed, then, but it didn’t sound very happy. “Sort of.”

“You’re not...leaving me, are you?” Arthur’s brain panicked, a little, at the thought.

Eames looked at him, then, gaze appraising. “Only if you want.”

“And if I don’t?” Arthur asked.

Eames grinned. “You’ll never get rid of me.”

Arthur smiled back. He was perfectly okay with that, really.


End file.
